A Red Cadillac and a Sure Thing
by Sweetwater Gal
Summary: A battle is brewing over the souls of two angels - and Joan Girardi is caught in the middle. Joan of Arcadia and Touched by an Angel crossover.
1. Default Chapter

**A Red Cadillac and a Sure Thing**

**Author:** Sweetwater Gal

_Joan of Arcadia/Touched by an Angel fanfic_

**Summary: **A battle is brewing for the souls of two angels – and Joan Girardi is caught right in the middle.

**Disclaimer: **Nothing belongs to me. Maybe the conception of one wicked little individual but other than that, all other characters from the two CBS shows belong to Martha Williamson and Barbara Hall respectively. I wish I owned Kris Lemche and John Dye... but hey, what can you do?

**Spoilers: **Joan of Arcadia - Pre "Silence" Pre Season Two; Touched by an Angel - Post Series Finale "I Will Walk with You"

**Author's Note: **Of course this is all completely AU. I'm a bit surprised that these two worlds haven't yet collided in the crossover fanfic world. Huh. And I realize that I've got just how many uncomplete fanfics still waiting in the wings? I'm a horrible writer.

**

* * *

****Chapter One**

Sixteen year old Joan Girardi should have sensed that something was wrong the moment _he_ made his way towards her.

Donned in his tan jacket, knowing smirk and youthful appearance, God casually walked towards Joan and leaned into her as if they were the best of friends. His actions did nothing, however, to calm her growing unease and irritation. Unease towards whatever task he had for her this time around. Irritation because no matter how many times God would wave the "free will" card, ultimately the Almighty Itself knew Joan would comply.

The young woman followed suite as she too crossed her arms and leaned against her locker, raising an inquisitive brow at him. "What is it this time?" Joan paused, then added, "And what's with the bag?"

Though she had seen him once or twice with a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, this time around God had a duffle bag. Good size, black, and with a red bumper sticker that read "... and on the eighth day, God created Hitchhikers." Mentally, Joan noted that just like the deity before her, that quote did not make any sense.

God hitched the bag, smirked, and as if reading her mind, "In due time it will."

Joan hitched her own bag on her shoulder and with a sigh, "Speaking of time, I'm going to be late for math. It seems that spring time is the perfect time for teachers to play cruel and unusual games with their students in the form of pop quizzes and exams. So if you could just-"

"You up for a road trip?"

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

He gave a nod towards the hallway that was now emptying of its student body. "Everyone's heading to class now, which means that in a few seconds the halls will be clear and we can be able to make a quick exit."

Another blink of her brown eyes. "Come again?"

"You heard me, Joan." He smiled casually, as if what he was suggesting wasn't suicidal both academically _and_ on the home front were her parents to discover her truancy.

As she observed the halls, now nearly empty like God had predicated, "Are you insane, or something? I can't just skip school to go on a _road trip_ with you!" Joan placed a hand on her forehead, as if checking whether or not _she _had just gone insane. "My God! Even _that _sounds psychotic! A road trip. With _God_."

Her reaction seemed to amuse God more than the suggestion of skipping school itself. "Well, Joan, believe it or not but I've even accompanied drunkards to _strip bars_." He quickly continued as her eyes widened upon hearing such words leave his lips. "This _isn't_ my real body, Joan. Remember? I'm _much more_ and _beyond_ human comprehension. I'm everywhere and with _everyone_."

A stubborn glare now bore into him, "And why should I follow you this time around? Why shouldn't I just leave you and be a good B average student and head to class?"

She had expected confusing words of wisdom. She had even expected a non too subtle quip. Instead, Joan had gotten a silent shrug from He Who Could Have Been More Clearer.

Before a frustrated growl could escape her lips, "That's it? Nothing? Silence? I can't believe you actually expect me to follow you so _blindly_!"

He smiled. "It's called faith, Joan. Faith." And with those words, God turned and began his swift, add in graceful, exit.

* * *

"Something on your mind, angel girl?"

Monica, whose gaze was initial facing the horizon, blinked upon hearing the familiar nickname bestowed upon her by a dear friend of long ago. And though that wonderful companion, mentor, and surrogate mother, Tess, wasn't here physically, it took little things – such as said nickname – to bring a smile of familiarity onto Monica's face.

Once an inexperienced celestial caseworker, and now a wiser case supervisor, Monica found herself wishing for the past. Especially now that she was blessed with a chance to spend time with another of her dearest friends; Andrew.

"Mon?" Andrew, an angel of death, regarded her with a mixture of concern and inquiry. He had recognized that look on her face. The angel, whom in human form had a Southern gentleman mannerism, knew Monica long enough to realize her wistful, far-off gaze.

And boy was it fortunate that she decided to slip into her daydreamer mode just as they were at the moment pumping gas into her red Cadillac.

She exited the driver's side of the vehicle to join Andrew's side. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. "I was just thinking," Monica began, meeting his green eyes with her own brown eyes. A smile appeared on her face, "How much I've missed days like these."

Knowing what she meant, yet not missing an opportunity to cause mischief, "Oh, I know what you mean, Mon." As Andrew began removing the pump nozzle, "I fondly recall those days of catering to the needs of Miss Tess. Yes, I do remember the," No doubt dropping his tone to mock Tess's own voice, "'Angel boy, pump the gas.' The 'Fix that scratch, would you, Andrew?'"

As he closed the gas tank's door, there was a twinkle in his eye as he continued, "Oh, and of course, how could I forget my favorite instruction of all! 'Andrew! Keep a watchful eye on Monica. God only knows what trouble she could cause if left alone in a Starbucks.'"

Monica's eyes widened as a faint embarrassed blush appeared on her face. Only the Heavenly Father and her closest friends knew of her one human weakness; coffee. She was about to defend herself upon quickly realizing that, "Tess never said that to you!"

"Oh yes she did." He gave a firm nod, though the mischief remained in his eyes.

"When?"

"That day."

"What day?"

"A few years ago."

"A few years?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, do you remember what year it was?"

"Not really..."

With an exasperated sigh, "Andrew!"

Realizing that persistence was another of Monica's endearing qualities, Andrew chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! Okay, I give. I made up that last part about the Starbucks."

Monica smiled smugly up at him, "That's what I figured."

"But," He started as he casually reached over to place an arm around her petite frame. Giving her a gentle squeeze, "Tess really did make me promise to watch over you." Andrew leaned a bit and placed a kiss on her forehead before softly adding, "And I fully intend to keep it."

The younger angel could feel her eyes begin to mist up. Andrew, dear Andrew, always knew what to say to brighten her spirit. After her promotion nearly a year ago, one that had to allow farewells to Tess, Gloria – a practically newer angel, and friend, that she had gotten the chance to mentor herself – and Andrew, out off the entire group, it was the absence of this green eyed angel before her that felt heavier in her heart. She couldn't explain it, but there was no denying their strong and silent bond. Maybe it came from being eager sidekicks to their glorious Tess. Maybe it came from their relationship growing from tutor-student and eventually partners completely in sync without even realizing. Maybe there was something special about each other that they couldn't quite find with other angels they knew.

Whatever it was, Monica knew for certain that she could not have asked for a better gift from God than Andrew's love and friendship.

And seeing him gaze down at her with a look she secretly knew that he reserved only for her, Monica's heart swelled in knowing that he shared the same sentiments.

"Ready to hit the open road, angel girl?" Andrew reached over and opened the driver's door for her, taking a moment to flourish a bow that caused her to laugh.

Looking up at him, she asked playfully, "With you?"

As he slid right in next to her from the other side, he said, "If you mean one of your best friends and expert navigator, I would think that I'm your angel."

"Huh." Starting the ignition, "For a second there, I thought you were going to name Gloria..."

Andrew tossed her a small glare, which in turn caused another laugh to escape Monica's lips. He reached over to tug on her auburn haired ponytail, "Ha. That was cute, Mon. Real funny."

Once they left the gas station and continued down the highway and eventually into open road, Monica reached over with her right hand to grasp Andrew's own. She gave it an affectionate squeeze, "Okay, _navigator_, I'm all ears. Where to?"

"Now you don't need me to tell you our final destination."

"Seattle, Washington?" Monica glanced at him with a small smile.

Returning that smile, "Right. Seattle, Washington."

"I just wanted to hear you confirm it."

He began to unfold the map that was sitting in between the pair, stared at it for a minute, then, "But first let's make our way out of the picturesque town of Arcadia, Maryland."

* * *

God gazed towards the road, eastward where the city of Arcadia lied. He continued to hold his gaze, a small smile on his teenaged face just as Joan Girardi herself joined his side. With his eyes on the road, and a smirk on his lips, "Three minutes. Not bad, Joan."

Before she began tying her brown hair in a pony tail, Joan tossed a nervous glance towards the imposing high school behind her. "Yeah... well, if you had just given me a quick explanation instead of that 'It's called faith' speech, I would have been out a lot faster."

With his eyes still focused on the open road, "Did it sound too rehearsed? I was hoping for fluidity and spontaneity."

"No, it sounded just fine."

"Really?"

"Left me stunned."

"I was aiming for that. Element of surprise and all."

"You had me at 'What the hell?'"

God glanced down as a soft smile appeared on his face. After which, he returned his gaze to the open road, west bound this time, and began holding his right thumb out. Perfect pose for a young hitchhiker.

Joan tossed a weary gaze his way. "Speaking of which; what the hell are you doing?"

"Ease up on the cursing, Joan. You could scare off the potential good Samaritan."

"Gee," She began, the sarcasm evident in her voice, "Now why would I want to do that?"

God looked over his shoulder at Joan and a slow smile formed on his lips. "Hey, Joan. I have a question."

"One of many..." She sighed. "Go ahead."

"Can you hold your right hand like this?" He held up his own hand at her with only the thumb and the pinkie sticking out. "In Hawaii, the locals call this gesture as a 'shaka.' Loosely, it means 'hang loose.'"

Joan shook her head. Confusion was not a foreign feeling to her in regards towards God's instructions. However, with confusion, another familiar concept was obedience. Slowly she followed suite. "Ohhhkay... and _why_ am I doing this?"

God gave a thoughtful nod, "Alright... uh, Joan? Lower your pinkie finger a bit... lower... low– ah! There you go. Perfect." With that, God took a quick step back and, to Joan's utter amazement, had allowed _her_ to be the hitchhiker.

With her eyes wide and mouth gaping, "Did _you_ just–"

He gave her a silent reply in the firm of a knowing smirk, which only festered her growing annoyance of his company. Before Joan could finish her accusation, and also give a second thought as to actually lowering her right hand, the sound of an approaching vehicle quickly garnered their attention.

He winked and applauded at her. "Wow. See? You're a natural. Good job, faithful servant."

Despite her irritation, Joan couldn't help but feel a slight blush arise. "Are you mocking me?"

"Couldn't help myself." For some odd reason, she detected a hint of flirtation within God's behavior. This lasted for a micro second, however, for the mere thought of _God_ flirting was – if anything – too vile, too _out there_ to comprehend. Unfortunately, that _too_ lasted for a micro second. Especially as he took a sudden step towards her, startling her, and before she could react, he reached over and lowered her raised hand. Staring at her all too intently, he softly smiled, "By the way, you're blushing." And he returned to his current spot behind Joan.

The young Girardi regarded him, both bewildered and – surprisingly – with growing unease. Just as she was about to ask him, again, what was going on, the approaching vehicle – a beautiful red 1972 model Cadillac, with its top down – pulled over right beside them.

"Hey," God walked over to the car. Smiling at the passengers within, "How're you folks doing today?"

Joan observed a bit from the side that the Cadillac's occupants were a couple. They looked a few years younger than her own parents, but there was something about them that Joan sensed made the couple seem a lot... _older_. The woman, with her own long auburn hair tied in a similar fashion as Joan's, was sitting in the driver's seat. She seemed to radiant in her white top and blue jeans. Joan herself was sporting a simple light blue top, denim jeans, and jacket. This woman, Joan realized, seemed to personify the word 'elegance', while she herself seemed to embody 'average.' At least in her own regard.

The passenger side was occupied by a man with short blond hair. He was wearing an attire similar to his friend; white shirt, blue jeans. Only exception was his black jacket. What Joan thought made him stand out, and in also quite a handsome fashion, was his green eyes. They had this aura of... kindness. Gentleness. Even, dare she imagine, love. And those eyes, at the moment, were now smiling up at her.

"Hello," The woman had an Irish-lit accent as she smiled at them. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

God returned the kind smile, "Yes, ma'am. My girl and I are heading out west. To Seattle, Washington in fact. If you kind folks don't mind, we'll travel for as long as you'll have us."

Joan had to bite back not just a laugh, but a gawk over the way that God was speaking to these two strangers. She had never heard him speak in such a manner, and if she did, never in that human appearance.

The man answered this time, "Well, we're actually meeting a friend of ours in Seattle."

"Wow," God tossed Joan a wink, once more surprising the young woman. "Isn't that a coincidence." To the couple, "And y'know, they say that a coincidence is God remaining anonymous."

Joan noticed that the couple shared a brief look. It was a mixture of amusement and interest with a tinge of knowingness. She had recognized that look before, more often or not from the being standing right next to her.

"We couldn't agree more." The woman beamed. As her friend stepped out of the two door vehicle, to allow them in, "We'd be more than happy to take you to Seattle with us."

A flicker of panic suddenly seized Joan, especially as she realized just how far – and extreme – God's latest endeavor was going to take her. "Uh," She began, taking hold of God's arm and gently tugging him aside. To the couple, "Excuse us, wouldn't you? I just need to have a small chat with _my boy_, here." She emphasized her point with a quiet glare aimed solely at God, who only looked on with amusement.

Once out of their earshot, Joan resisted the urge to yell. "Are you insane! I can't just get into a car with strangers! And _Seattle_? What is going on?"

"You can trust them, Joan." God answered with a calmness that, unfortunately, merely frustrated her. "Trust me."

"I do, but..."

"You have a bad feeling about this?"

Meeting his gaze, her voice revealing more of her vulnerability that she would have liked. "Yes. I don't know why, but I do... There's something about this whole _thing_ that doesn't feel right."

He peered into her, a half smile on his face. Speaking to her more like a human friend than a benevolent deity, "Is it me? Am I giving you the funny bunny wiggly in the tummy?"

Joan, unable to stop herself, cracked a smile. Years ago, when she was just a little girl, the phrase "funny bunny wiggly in the tummy" was created to describe her stomach aches. Her father, realizing his baby girl's illness was no picnic, had coined the phrase in an attempt to cheer her up. It worked for she couldn't stop giggling the more times he would speak those silly words to her. That phrase was also a secret shared between the two that, even to this day, no one else was privy to.

Until now. Though, Joan shouldn't be at all surprised that God knew about it.

"It's not you..." She shrugged, "It's just..." A sigh. "What am I going to tell my parents? What am I going to tell Adam?" She was then struck with a new thought. "And money! I'm not exactly an heiress to a Trump fortune..."

He grabbed her hand, and winked at her once more. "I have it all under control, Joan. Remember, I don't reveal all my plans at once. Where's the fun? Where's the adventure if I did? Just trust me... let's go!"

Sixteen year old Joan Girardi should have suspected that something was wrong. That something was amiss. She should have questioned God's unexpected behavior – which was more fun, spontaneous and , if anything, human. However, Joan was also human herself. She was flawed, she was curious, and even a small part of her felt swept away by the growing sense of adventure waiting for her beyond the Arcadian borders. Besides, she silently figured, at least she wouldn't be going through this alone. God was with her.

And as she hopped in the red Cadillac with him, a few feet away, under the shade of a willow tree, stood a little girl, with glasses, holding a blue rubber ball.

"You're right, Joan. I'm always with you." The little girl whispered as she watched, eyes filled with concern, sadness, and love, as the car drove away.


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews! I'm trying my best to write what I can. I apologize in advance for any tardiness I might present... kinda like what I had done with my other unfinished works that I probably should finish but for some reason, the plot bunnies are on strike.

**Disclaimer: **Do not own people of JoA/TBAA, do not own Elvis Presley, do not own Monkees, really truly deeply wished I owned John Dye and Kris Lemche... but I do kinda sorta own a certain fallen angel...**

* * *

**

**Chapter Two**

"'Joe'? Why 'Joe', _Joe_?" Joan Girardi slightly mocked the moment they were alone. Or as "alone" as they could be in a slightly crowded diner.

The couple, introduced as Monica and Andrew, had driven to a small diner just a few miles outside the borders of Arcadia. Before that, on the drive over, introductions had to be made. Joan felt another sense of panic, but realized it was in vain for God – as usual – was a few steps ahead of her. He had introduced himself simply as "Joe," which certainly piqued Joan's interest.

Once the four newly acquainted travelers settled in their booth, Joan excused both herself _and Joe_ for a moment. God had somewhat insisted on remaining in the diner to talk, but Joan had felt the outdoors was a perfect setting for their little chat. Of course, since her arguments with God were futile, Joan complied and followed God to the diner's lone jukebox, which was stationed a bit towards the back nearest the restrooms.

Momentarily ignoring her questions, "I love jukeboxes." His eyes began scanning the musical selections, "I'm a big fan of vintage..."

With a glare, "Why doesn't this surprise me?"

"Oh!" His eyes widened eagerly, almost like a little kid in a candy store. This, of course, was another trait Joan had never seen before. He pointed at the glass, "They have one of my favorite songs." With that, he began fishing out his pockets for change.

Joan placed her hands on her hips. "_You_ have a favorite song?"

As he began feeding the machine and pressing in the required buttons, he winked at her. "One of _many_ surprises up my sleeve."

"Really, _Joe_." She smirked.

"Yeah..." He momentarily trailed off, especially at sighting something over Joan's shoulder. He turned his gaze back onto Joan, and his eyes danced. "For instance, may I borrow your cell phone? I have this really spectacular trick in mind."

"Uh... okay..." With a bit of hesitation, mixed with curiosity, she handed God her phone.

He took it from her and as he began to punch in numbers, "Great... oh, and Joan?" He placed the phone to his ear, yet gave a nod in the direction behind her. "There's an old friend of yours at the counter that's been trying to get your attention."

If there was ever a moment for Joan Girardi to have a dropped into a dark hole, this was the right time. First confusion flooded over her, then momentary disbelief, and gradually, as the following events unfolded before her, Joan felt herself slipping into a darkness that not even God, the _real_ God who was sitting sadly at the counter in the guise of a motherly older lady, and his miracles could have saved her. God gave her a concerned wave, which Joan didn't understand until she turned to face the _other_ God, also known as Joe.

"Joe" winked at Joan, placed his index finger over his lips as if to convey silence, then stunned the disbelief out of her as he began speaking into the phone... in _her_ voice. "Hey, mom and dad! It's me, Joan. Guess I just got the machine, but anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. That I didn't get kidnaped or anything like that. I'm, uh, well... actually taking a trip with a good friend of mine. We're heading to New York for a few days, okay? I'll call you once I get there, alright? Love you both! Bye!" As he hung up, he shook his head in awe. "Wow. No wonder you ladies love faking it..."

"I– I– What..." Joan finally found her voice, but could only stammer in shock. "What just..." She gazed back at the elder woman, God number two in Joan's book, then back at Joe, God number one.

Joe, somewhat deciding to clear things up for the young woman, regarded her with sympathy. "Oh, Joan... Joanie..." With a mixture of sadness and mild disgust, "I can't believe you actually thought that _I_ was that trans-gender freak of nature your pathetic species refer to as _God_!"

"You're not..." She could feel the anxiety start to rise, "You mean you're not... I don't..."

"You don't understand." Joe nodded. "That's quite a mantra you have there, Joan."

As quick as a thunder crack, Joan's eyes flashed with anger. "Don't you dare insult me." She hissed. Using her anger to channel her initial questioning, "Who the hell are you?"

With a grin to chill her spine, "Exactly..." Joe nudged the jukebox with his elbow, causing the Elvis Presley song "Devil In Disguise" to play. He smiled coyly at Joan, "I just love this song, don't you?"

* * *

Monica was staring off into the distance again. Resting her chin with one hand while she was gently chewing a bit of her lower lip thoughtfully, Monica's eyes seemed unaware of the world around her.

Especially unaware of once more being the center of her best friend's attention.

Andrew had to slide himself away from the seat next to Monica's and position himself opposite of her. He observed her for a while until a thought came to him. With a smile, he gently reached his hand across and softly caressed her other hand that was on the table top. His voice starting off soft and soothing, "Oh I could hide 'neath the wings of a bluebird as she sings. Six o'clock alarm would never ring. But it rings, and I rise. Wipe the sleep out of my eyes. My shaving razor's cold and it stings..."

Hearing his words and feeling his kind touch had, like fabled Sleeping Beauty herself, woken up Monica to her surroundings. She watched him now with childlike wonder, completely aware of his light and beauty.

"Cheer up sleepy Jean, oh what can it mean to a," Andrew reached over and lightly stroked her cheek with his hand, as if to emphasize that _she _was his, "Daydream believer and a homecoming queen."

"You're as charming as ever." Monica remarked as she took his hand into hers.

Slightly blushing, "Thank you kindly, miss."

Monica glanced behind her shoulder, momentarily regarding their two young passengers, whom seem to be caught up in their conversation. She looked back over at Andrew and saw that he too had his eyes on Joan and Joe, standing together by the jukebox. Especially now as Joan glanced over her own shoulder to meet eyes with an elderly woman at the counter area while Joe was about to engage in a cell phone conversation.

The two angels would have thus caught the look of confusion and eventual dread on the young woman's face... had not Andrew distracted Monica to look his way. Their eyes were on each other as a hushed conversation fell before them in regards to – ironically enough – their two new acquaintances.

"What do you think their story is?" He asked.

"I don't know... but I do suppose that this was meant to happen."

"You mean if we take what Joe said into consideration? About coincidences?"

Monica nodded, then watched as Andrew's face grew thoughtful. "What is it?"

He glanced back up at Joan, who seemed into a deeper conversation with Joe. "I don't know exactly..."

"Andrew..."

"Monica," He began, now gazing at her intently. "Don't you feel it?"

"Feel what?" A silence fell between the two friends while Monica struggled to sense what Andrew was feeling. "I don't–"

"There's something..." Andrew slowly started, as if he too were beginning to understand. "Joan. There's something about Joan. Something... special." He looked back up at the young pair, still in an intense conversation by the jukebox.

With his eyes focused on Joan, "There's something about her... something," Andrew then locked eyes with Monica, startling her with his next words, "That God wants us to do with her."

* * *

"No..." Joan softly cried, her fear seized in her throat. Her every instinct screamed for her to flee, but it was challenged by Joe's sudden grasp of her arm. His eyes, that once portrayed God's care, now revealed a cunning sinisterness that Joan should have seen from the start.

It broke Joan's heart to hear such calculating cruelness pouring from the same voice that she had once, now seeming like ages ago, found comfort and peace. "It would be in your best interest to listen and not draw attention to ourselves, Joan. I'm not going to hurt you... not yet, anyway."

"Why should I believe you?"

The smile was meant to be playful, but Joan only saw mocking cruelty. "It's called faith, Joan. Faith."

The temper she had unarguably inherited from her father shined through because now she had this urge to spit in this bastard's face. Instead, "Did you use that speech on Eve as well? 'C'mon, Eve. Have some faith with a side of _applesauce_.'"

Joe snickered, "Joan... Joan, oh dear naive Joan... once more you are confusing me for a deity. This time around, however, I must thank you. It's quite flattering to be compared to the Dark One such as Himself."

Confused, "Excuse me?"

Thoughtfully, "Well... how can I explain this so that even _you_ can understand? Oh! Follow me, alright Joan? Apples and oranges... day and night... good and bad... _angels_ and..." He waved his free hand, the one that wasn't holding Joan's arm prisoner, encouragingly.

Her heart, as with hope, started to sink upon realizing the true nature of her enemy. "Demon..." Her voice was laced with despair.

With a satisfied nod, "Angels and _demons_. That is correct, Miss Dan Brown. Now, for the million dollars, can you correctly find the combination for that pesky Da Vinci Code?"

Drained, even on the verge of crying, "Why are you doing this? What do you want with me?"

* * *

"Andrew," Monica looked back over at Joan and Joe, who had himself deposited more coins into the jukebox. She turned back to her fellow angel, stunned by his words. "Something that God specifically wants _us_ to do. With Joan?" Despite it all, Monica's eyes lit up as she asked, "Like an assignment for us to work on together?"

With a fond smile, "If I do recall the words of Tess, when it came to angels, 'there's no such thing as a day off.' That also applies for vacations."

Monica's eyes glittered in anticipation. To be able to work with Andrew! Not that she wasn't appreciative of the mere concept of spending leisure time with her old friend, but _working_ with Andrew seemed like a far better idea. The thought of it drew such warmth and nostalgia to her soul.

This also caused a yearning for the good old days. When she was just a caseworker, brought under Tess's wise supervision. When she found a playful partner in Andrew, their target being Tess, like two students with enough adoration and smarts to tease their teacher. Oh! The cases they would become involved in. The peoples lives they touched. Together. The three of them. A heavenly team.

"Andrew," Monica started, "What do you suppose God wants us to do?"

With his brows furrowed, "I don't know... but I can't believe that you don't feel it."

"Well, what do you _feel_ exactly?"

"There's something about Joan. I don't know, Mon, it's like..." He glanced over at the young woman, still engaged in conversation with Joe. Andrew turned back to face Monica, closed his eyes, and sighed. Without realizing it, he silently prayed to God to help him find the right words.

* * *

"First, I want you to understanding something" Joe began, "And when I mean _understand_, I mean grasping the concept like it was a swinging axe over your pretty little head that could come crashing down were you to do something stupid. Like say, I don't know, ratting me out to our new friends over there." He gave a nod towards the booth were Andrew and Monica, unfortunately unsuspecting of what's recently transpired. "And when I mean 'axe crashing down,' I mean that I could do _far worse_ damage the likes found only in _Hitler_'s dream. It really isn't pretty, Joan. I mean, people could get hurt. Not just _any_ one person, you know. Like, I don't know," He mock shrugged, "People in _wheelchairs_,"

Like thunder flashing before Joan's very eyes, an image of her big brother, Kevin, smiles and all, appeared.

"_... Groups that deal with dangerous chemicals. Y'know, of the variety that could be found in **science** class..."_

Her brother Luke, with a grin she could only classify as geek-adorable, busily fawning over his latest lab experiment. Standing by Luke's side were his best friend, Romeo wannabe, Friedman, and Joan's own best friend, Grace.

"_... People that deal with very dangerous material, like, **metal**. **Blow torches**. And, hey, even **paint** can be hazardous..."_

Her mother's proud smile gazed down upon Adam, as if he were her own. Both had a magician's touch when it came to colors and light. Both were able to create something amazing, beautiful, otherworldly with mere materials. And both could paint and etch love into her heart like no other.

"_And least we forget the individuals that have to deal with criminals and, well,** guns**, of course, that could discharge in a heartbeat."_

Her hero. Her knight in shining armor. The man that could scare any monster from her closet with the flick of a star night light. He was Will Girardi, officer of the law, to the average man. However, he was more than that to Joan. He was... no, _is_ father. Protector. Dad. Daddy. And she desperately needed one of his papa bear hugs right now.

"Now..." Joe continued, "As I've probably stressed to, well, _death_. People can get hurt."

As her father's image faded, and as she now stared into the blackness of this demon's human eyes, Joan silently vowed to make it back to her father's safe embrace. Especially hearing such a cruel nonchalance in his voice.

"And we wouldn't want that, now would we, Joan?"

She shook her head, swallowing her tears. "No..."

"Good." He beamed at her. "So you understand how _simple_ it is for me to get to them, right? I mean, I got to _you_ didn't I?" Joe tossed a wink at God, still sitting patiently by the counter. "You, Miss Joan Agnes Girardi. God's little pet. His little lamb... Tough shepherd boy over there had turned his back for a _second_... and I had gotten his most prized possession."

With desperate conviction, "And he's _so_ going to kick your ass once he rescues me."

"Oh, _wow_." Joe tried to stifle a laugh, but only managed to snicker loudly. "Are you kidding me? Oh, man! Goodness, you should have heard yourself, sweetheart. You made it seem as if that cross-dresser was your _boyfriend_." Sniggering, "I should watch out, huh? Or else your big, bad, football jersey wearing thug of a boyfriend is going to come kick my ass!"

"Stop it." She spat, the tears threatening to break through. "Just stop it."

Joe took a breath, "Seriously, Joan. He isn't going to do _anything_. If he is, he would have done it already. Am I right?"

Silence was her answer, for as much as she would have loved to prove this jerk wrong... a part of her knew just how unfortunately right he was.

"_Nothing_, Joan. He's not going to get off his self righteous, condescending, judgmental, high on himself, lazy _ass_. And you want to know _why_? Come on, sweetie... even _you_ know the answer. I mean, you yourself have asked him the very same question; Why? Hell, I'll give you a hint: two words."

For the second time today, dread and despair filled her voice. "Free will."

"That's my girl."

"I'm _not_ your girl." Joan growled.

He cringed, though he made no attempt to hide his grin, "Ouch. You wound me, Joan. I think you just broke my heart."

"Like you have one."

"Did before." With a shrug, "Found it to be a bit overrated."

* * *

His green eyes widened, in both surprise and gratefulness, as Andrew cried, "A glow! She's... there's, like, some kind of _glow_ about her."

"What?" Monica's own brown eyes met his in confusion.

Thoughtfully, "Like... like a _beacon_." He paused, confused himself as he added, "That's what God just told me. When I prayed for him to the words to describe Joan, he said that 'she's a beacon.'"

"A beacon? A beacon to _what_, Andrew? Because isn't that what a beacon does? It's a light that leads the way to _something_?" More puzzled than her companion, "What is Joan a beacon to... or for...?"

Monica then sat back, observing the dawning in her dear friend's eyes. With an awed smile on his face, "To _him_. He said that Joan's a beacon _to him_."

"Joan's a light to God?" Equally awe-inspired, Monica looked over at the young lass that only moments ago she had thought to be a normal teenager. "Is Joan a prophet? Will she lead people to Him? And what does it have to do with us?" The questions gushed out excitedly from her lips.

Andrew shrugged, "He didn't say. All he said is that 'she's a light, a beacon in the dark.' And he also said that _we_ have to be there." The same thrill in Monica's eyes echoed in Andrew's own as he added, "To help her. To help give her the strength. To help Joan lead the fallen back to God."

A surprised look, laced with sadness, appeared on Monica's face. "The fallen? Those that have turned their backs on the Father?"

Andrew's face grew grave, as if speaking the words aloud made what he had heard whispered to him a lot more real. "He said that there's a battle brewing. That it's close. And that it's between good and..." The angel of death paused, then, "And evil. God didn't say much, but he said that there's going to be a fight between good and evil. A fight over souls..."

Understanding dawned on Monica. "Souls of the fallen." With a shiver and sadness, she then asked the question that not only played in Andrew's mind, but that God remains silent to answer. "But who could ever turn away from God?

* * *

"Why are you doing this?" Joan asked once more. If she was going to go along with this bastard, she felt that he at least owed her an explanation.

Joe had fed the jukebox a few more coins and replied with a shrug. "Just because."

"Why?"

"Don't know... seems like a fun thing to do, I guess. I mean, granted I could be wrecking havoc on some unsuspecting innocent. Oh. Wait. That's what I am doing, isn't it?" He winked.

"Did I steal your pitchfork in a past life? What did I ever do to you? Why me?"

"Sorry to burst your ego, Bonnie, but this isn't about you." He had a mysterious smile on his face, "Clyde has his eye on bigger fish to fry." Raising his fingers, "Two, in fact. I think you've just met them."

Startled, Joan glanced back over at their waiting companions. "Andrew and Monica? Why?"

Shrug. "They're good... _people_." The last word Joe slightly emphasized. However, Joan was still caught up in the surprising realization to notice. He continued, "And you know how us fallen angels feel about the good guys."

Joe was certainly pulling out all the surprises today, despite the tone in his voice insisting on him having a few more tricks up his sleeve. Basking in Joan's stunned silence, "Y'know, that boyfriend of yours still remains possessive. Still insists that we're _His_ despite the fact that we want nothing to do with him. Fallen _angels_. Wayward. Lost." He snorted with disgust, "Way back to the Old Testament and right straight to this very day. In all reality, he just cannot let us go!"

He placed an arm around her shoulder, giving her a friendly squeeze, "In fact, that's part of the reason why my _true _Master told me to tap you. Because of _that_ God's unnatural attachment to _you_. Because you're _our Father's_ latest mistress."

"Shut up..." Joan said, burning with a mixture of anger, disgust, and embarrassment.

"You know, we'd figure that the old man wasn't _that_ sentimental. First Mary... then Jeanne d'arc... and now _you_, Joan Agnes Girardi. Jeanne... more infamous for the name _Joan_ as well. I mean, after seeing Mistress number two burnt at the stake you would think that the guy would steer clear from other Joans. But again, you know him. He couldn't resist a good irony. Joan of Arc. Joan of... Maryland? No, wait," He snapped his fingers, "What's the name of that little town? Starts with an A... Oh. Yes." Joe beamed, "Arcadia. Joan of Arcadia."

"You just don't know when to quit."

"Joan of Arcadia. Corny, yes. Would make a great title for a movie of the week, though."

"Or a TV show were I could cast you as a horny brainless retard that eventually dies a horrible, painful death at the hands of a speeding pickup truck. Of course you'd be introduced in the first episode and then die a few seconds later so that the audience wouldn't have to deal with your reeking presence ever again!"

"That's nice, Joan. I believe that everyone should have a dream. And maybe it might come true... but for now, let's work on making _my dream_ come true, alright? And you can help me. In fact, I _insist_ that you help me. Because you present such an... _innocence_, a _beacon_ of the human spirit so to speak... it will be a lot easier for you to gain their," Referring to Andrew and Monica, "Trust. So I guess I shouldn't point out that you will _not_ tell them about this conversation. About _me_. Got it?"

Joan nodded numbly, but managed to ask once more, "Why them? What did _they_ ever do to you?"

Joe removed his arm from Joan's shoulder, to her brief relief, then coiled his hand within her own, much to her disgust and dismay. Once more playing the intrigue card, he replied, "Hebrews thirteen two.

Then, with a wink, which was a habit that purely itched Joan's urge to poke his eye out, Joe started leading Joan back to their awaiting, and unsuspecting, companions.


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: **Thanks for all the reviews! And just like the first sentence, sorry for keeping you waiting. Heh. Anyway, warning, this particular author is a huge student of Procrastination 101. Hopefully I can work on this and not let it become of a million other unfinished products of my imagination.

**Disclaimer:** TBAA/JoA do not belong to me. Only Joe. However, I'm willing to trade him for the actual Kris Lemche and John Dye.

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**Chapter Three**

"Sorry for keeping you guys waiting," Joan observed Joe as he made his way back to their table. He had a nonchalance, an air of confidence, about him that could easily be mistaken for arrogance. However, as if aware that he was being presented in such a way, Joe easily played the humility card. Joan was to learn that throughout most of his conversations, he manages to toss a few humble shrugs and grins as if they were frisbees.

She paused, realizing with reluctance that Joe wanted her to sit next to him. Considering that she knew of his true identity, Joan couldn't help the disgust in knowing that she had to play nice with the enemy. She had cast a helpless look at Monica, hoping that the older woman will catch and question her hesitance. Unfortunately, before Monica had the chance to toss a smile Joan's way, Joe squeezed Joan's hand a little too tightly, gaining her attention his way. While Monica missed the helplessness in Joan's eyes, Joan herself caught the warning in Joe's. It lasted for a second, but it was enough to tighten her stomach... and silence her lips.

Thank goodness for Andrew, however. He had caught the look in the young woman's eyes and, "Joan? You okay?"

Joan beamed with relief and opened her mouth to confirm Andrew's worry. However...

"She's fine." Joe said, all the while giving Joan's hand a tight little squeeze. Joan tried not to wince from the sharp pain, but she otherwise remained quiet thanks to his obvious silent warning. Continuing for her, Joe met Andrew's concerned eyes. "Joan's just a bit upset because the jukebox didn't have her favorite song. Right, sweetheart?"

If anything, pride caused her to answer with silence. However, with one more numbing clench of his grasp, "Right..." She said with a reluctance in her voice. Joan tossed her "sweetheart" a tight smile, "Apparently my luck just _sucks_ today."

"Now, now, Joan." Joe beamed at her. With a nod at their companions, "Watch your language."

Joan mumbled an apologize, if only to keep up appearance. "Sorry... I don't do well with bad days." Unable to help herself, she tossed a glare at Joe, "This you should know, _honey_."

"It's okay, Joan." Andrew beamed knowingly at Monica, "We've heard _far_ worse than we would have liked." He said as he got up and joined Monica's side once more. He remained standing, like a gentleman, until Joan sat beside Joe. His eyes stayed on the young woman, observing her. On the outside, Joan truly seemed like a normal teenager, more so in her current sulky nature. Yet as he blinked, for a mere second, he could see the _light_ that God had whispered to Andrew. Why couldn't Monica see it herself?

With sympathy for the young woman, Monica said, "Well, hopefully the day will get better for you. I don't believe in luck, but I do believe in having a bad day."

Andrew smirked, not wanting to miss another opportunity to tease his petite friend. "If Monica starts a day off _without_her cup of coffee, it's considered a bad day for _everyone_."

"Since when did you become quite the comedian, dear chum?" Monica literally, and playfully, ribbed him. Turning to their young companions, "Thank God that his comedic timing isn't as horrible as his miming abilities." Grinning back at him and patting his arm with mock sincerity, "I love you, Andrew, but your silence makes my singing look good."

Andrew's mouth dropped, if only for a second stunned by _her_ quip. Feigning insult, "Oh! Ouch... that hurts, Mon." He turned to the Joe and Joan, "And she has an awful voice."

"Really?" Joan asked, surprised. For a moment she allowed herself to forget her current predicament and let herself enjoy the company. She couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about Monica and Andrew that gave her a sense of ease.

Both Andrew and Monica nodded. Monica had a hint of blush, while Andrew placed his arm around his favorite angel. He began, "Despite that beautiful Irish accent, angel girl over here is unable to carry a tune." With a wink towards her, he added, "It's a good thing that I love you more for your sparkling personality rather than your rendition of 'Danny Boy.'"

A waitress arrived just as Monica's laugh tinkled through the air. She had heard all the jokes before concerning her vocal skills – or lack thereof – but there were only two people that she truly allowed to get away with them. One of them was in Seattle. The other had his arm around her.

With Andrew treating, despite the protests heard both from Joe and Joan, they placed their orders and waited patiently for them. Joe had suggested they pack their food to go, if only because the more daylight they spend traveling, the better the miles gained and the faster they reach their destination. Joe had also insisted on sharing not just the gas, but the driving, but was met only half way by Monica agreeing that they split the gas bill.

Joan, no matter how close in proximity she was to the group, started to distance herself. She needed a chance to assess this situation, to figure out how the hell could she get out of this without inflicting Joe's wrath. She wasn't worried about herself, but more for the people that the demon suitor himself threatened. Just as ideas were beginning to stream through her mind, a momentary movement garnered Joan's attention.

"I have to make a phone call." She blurted out, somewhat startling Andrew and Monica, and certainly gaining Joe's interest. Joan would have practically jumped out of her seat, but decided not to arouse Joe's suspicion. With a more demure quality, "It's kind of important..." She started to scoot on out of her seat, but not before glancing at Joe's reaction.

"To who?" Joe asked, not much to Joan's surprise. He slightly glared, more so as he noticed an absence at the diner's counter. He would have protested, but his ego convinced him that he had threatened Joan deeply enough for her not to make her escape. And as he observed her squirm in her seat, Joe couldn't help but find enjoyment in seeing her in such a state.

"Uh... to, to..." She paused, then replied, "... to Grace."

"Why?"

Feeling a step ahead of him, "To talk to Adam for me. I- I don't want him to worry..."

"Adam?" It was Monica's turn to question, but not for the reason that Joan imagined. Unknown to the young Girardi, Adam was another angel of death and a good friend of both Andrew and Monica. Unknown to the angel, Joan's Adam was not just one of her best friends, but her boyfriend.

With a smirk, and before Joan had the chance to answer, Joe said, "Her dog." Seeing Joan silently seethe, he continued his explanation to Monica, "Adam. So loyal, so loveable, and you can always find that adorable puppy begging at Joan's feet. It's quite an amusing sight."

"You're just jealous that I love him more than you." She said, realizing that was certainly the biggest understatement in her life.

"That is true." Joe replied with a playful smile. "_This_ you should know." He feigned a sigh, and a roll of his eyes, "Okay..." He handed her cell phone back, despite his original intention to dismiss the object in the nearest bush. "Don't take too long, Joan. We'll be moving on out soon enough." He beamed, which caused a doubtful reaction from the young woman. Joe's eyes followed Joan until she was near the diner's exit, then he turned his attention back onto their traveling companions. With a smile to match that of a Cheshire cat, "So, how long have you two been together?"

* * *

Joan approached God in the same fashion that God had originally, far and long ago, approached her... at the bus stop. She knew that God was aware of her footsteps stalking up to the deity, as if the sounds of the crunching gravel wasn't obvious enough.

The diner parking lot was half empty, which was a good thing considering that Joan had made a beeline towards God by walking right in the middle of said lot. Made the approach to the bus stop, positioned at the edge of the diner, a lot quicker. By the time that the young woman reached God, still in the comforting form of the elder woman that could have passed for her grandmother, the Almighty had turned around and welcomed her with an expectant look.

The middle child Girardi paused and opened her mouth but only to find herself speechless. And as always, God stayed patient, waiting quietly. Joan closed her mouth, then opened them once more – this time managing to point an accusing finger – however, again rendering herself unable to speak. Thoughts, complaints, anger, tears, pleas, questions and many more emotions swarmed Joan, especially as reality set in knowing that _this_ was God and not...

"Evil?" The accusation was meant to sound harsh, but she winced at how meek it was. Joan had a distinct feeling that her tear ducts would go off any moment, so she continued. "I– I had skipped school today... with _you_. B- but it _wasn't_. I... I– I believed that he was you! Even though he seemed too..."

"Human." God said, making it sound more like a statement rather than a question.

"That. But I was also thinking _fun_. _Normal_. _Tolerable_." With an embarrassed blush, "For a moment, I even started to... you _know_..." Joan waved her hand, waiting for God to fill in the blanks that she was too ashamed to fill herself. Seeing the amused look on God's human face, she slightly glared. "Come on! It's like deja vu."

"Feel an attraction?"

"Yeah..."

God gave a nod, "That's how it usually works. Some of the major sins are, in one way or another, originated by some form of seduction. Pure evil puts an emphasis on _purity_. By presenting themselves not with an ugly image, but of pure beauty. That way, you never really see it coming until you find yourself staring at its _true_ form; darkness."

"So all purely beautiful things are really evil?"

"No..." God gazed at her with sadness, "There _are_a lot of good things, good people, in this world, Joan. So good, so pure and beautiful, that their true form is the exact opposite of evil." God took her hands into her own, "_Light_. If you ever become lost in the dark, find the light, Joan. Remember that..."

God gave Joan's hand a reassuring squeeze before surprising the young woman by turning and walking away. Joan stared, if only a second. Unlike the other times that God would walk away, Joan stopped her by grasping her arm.

"Hey!" God turned back, expectant. Hurt and anger flashed in her brown eyes, "No! You– you don't actually want me to do this! To be his– his _hostage_. Whatever happened to free will? My choice? You don't really want me to have anything to do with _him_. Do you!"

Nearly stunning her in the same way that Joe had a few moments passed, God replied with aching sincerity, "He's right."

Joan blinked. Her eyes glistening as the anger subsided to allow the pain, the confusion, and the tears. "Excuse me? How? Why? God, just give me something to understand how that _devil_could be _right_?"

"In a way, he is right. Don't be too harsh on Joe. He wasn't always this..."

"Cocky... cruel... Manipulative... An ass–" Joan silenced herself as she caught God's look of disapproval. "Hey, I have the right to spurt out the adjectives. Considering how he had just threatened not just my life, but those that I love as well."

"Joseph used to be funny. And charming. And kind. He was a good angel, Joan."

"Joseph? Angel? _Him_! That same bastard I met at the jukebox?"

"You'd be surprise how many people pass by angels unaware. And while I don't approve of his recent behavior, Joan, I do consider Joe as part of the fallen few. Fallen into the dark. And darkness, absolute darkness is of absolute hopelessness. It's cold and bleak. Stay in the dark long enough and you begin to _feel_ it. To adapt yourself to it in order to survive. Soon enough, you too become just as cold and without hope. Without light."

Seeing Joan's hardened face start to soften, "The thing is, Joan, when you fall, especially deep into the dark that you feel as if you cannot be found, that doesn't necessarily mean you stay lost forever. Just ask, just open your heart, just..." With a smile, "Look up. You'll see the light. And even though sometimes it might be too dim to see, it's there, Joan. The light will always be there to guide you out of the dark."

Feeling somewhat comforted, "Light and dark? It's that simple?"

"There will also be some gray areas in between, but yes, otherwise it's that simple. Same thing goes for free will. Free will is about choices. Being able to make them. When you're lost in the dark, your choices are very limited. Mainly because you're not able to see them. However, in the light, the choices are many because you _can_. It's so bright and so clear... like the stars."

"So... I don't have to do this?" A glimmer of hope sparkled, "I can just walk away? I can go home?"

"If you want." God answered simply.

That's when Joan felt the knot in her stomach. Not because of hunger, but of an emotion far beyond doubt and guilt. Deeper still than duty and a sense of calling. God stood and waited for Joan, though they both knew what decision she was to ultimately make.

Her eyes were downcast, as if searching the ground for answers, "Then why I can't I leave? A big part of myself wants to go so desperately, but..." Joan locked eyes with God's own, which held a mixture of compassion and silent pride towards her. "I don't."

Silence fell upon them as Joan's mind struggled to comprehend her choice. That's when a slow realization started to sink in. She looked into God's eyes, piercing into them as if they held the answer, "This is way bigger than me, isn't it? Something's happening that's like... end of the world, Armageddon, Revelations, holy battle _big_, isn't it?" She paused as her eyes danced between fear and excitement. "Am I really following in Joan of Arc's footsteps?"

God sighed, "'Joan of Arcadia' isn't a television show. It's your life."

With a shrug, "'The Ten Commandments' wasn't just a movie either. So what is it? Why am I getting this ominous surge through my body?"

God gave Joan a mysterious smile, "Because you're a beacon." And with that, God walked away, but not before tossing the infamous backhanded wave that Joan was so used to.


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N:** My wording of Hebrews 13:2 actually came from the novel Quantum Leap: Angels Unaware; which I highly recommend reading if you're a QL fan. First book to ever make me cry buckets... and I never cry over novels, so that says something! Anyway, I loved how simple the wording was compared to the actual scripture from my bible... so I decided to use that instead. I'm just announcing that in the case that anyone becomes offended by the verse I use. But if you are, shrugs eh, your lost. Enjoy!

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**Chapter Four**

A beacon! Joan gaped as God walked away.

"_Because you're a beacon."_

Once again, God had been vague in its response, thus ultimately confusing and pissing Joan off. She was so unaware and lost in her thoughts that just as she walked back and reached for the diner door, it had swung open. Joan jerked, stunned, then scowled at the grinning face before her.

"You know, I don't care what God said, but with a smile like that, you really _are_ evil. Ex-angel or not."

"So the big guy– wait, I meant, _grandmother_ has told you about me?" Joe chuckled. "By the way, I love your smile too, babe." Joe reached up and patted her check, causing her to take a step back in revolt.

"Bite me." She hissed.

"Don't tempt me." He winked as he reached for her once more. Instead of caressing her check, as Joan initially believed he would do, Joe took a firm grasp of her hand.

It took Joan all of her self control not to yank her hand free... _and _slap him with it. However, the glint in his eye cautioned her not to make a scene. A scene that would not only arouse suspicion, but waken Joe's temper. The last thing she needed was a demon's wrath. Instead, Joan tossed him a wide smile... before violently pulling her hand away.

With a lethal glare to match his own, "Touch me again _without_ my permission, and you'll wish you were back in hell."

Joe's reply was merely a smirk, which soon proceeded into a piercing stare. Joan crossed her arms stubbornly, refusing to back down from his latest intimidation tactic. However, the longer and deeper he stared, more so since she remembered nearly a year back somewhat _falling_ for those pair of eyes, the young woman found herself faltering. Joe was good. Damn good, she had to quietly admit. Knowing how she _physically_ felt about this particular body he possessed, Joan had to give him props for choosing wisely.

As if reading her mind, Joe crossed his own arms and said, "Figured that if this body was good enough for God, it was good enough for me. More so since it's the only form pretty enough to garner your full attention."

"No, that would be Orlando Bloom." Joan snarked.

With a wink, "Who says that he didn't sell himself to the devil as well? No male human can look _that_ pretty wearing a long blonde wig." Joe almost laughed upon seeing Joan's mouth gape from his words. Feeling a bit for the girl, "I'm just kidding, Girardi. Have a sense of humor."

"God said you used to be funny... big emphasis on _used to_." She glared. "What're you doing out here?" Before the words slipped out of her lips, which was followed by a sense of deja vu. "Are you spying on me?"

His eyes softened, as if hurt by her accusation. "Is it a crime for someone to be worried about their friend?"

Joan chortled with disgust. "Friends? You mean kidnapper and hostage."

"Well, technically so. But in all honesty, you _voluntarily_ got into the convertible. Not to mention that you're still standing right here when you had every opportunity to leave the moment you had stepped out of that," He pointed behind him, "Diner door."

"Again, what're you doing?"

Ignoring her question, "By the way, did you ask God about the scripture?"

"What scripture?"

"You know, the one I had told you." Off the blank look on her face, Joe sighed, "Geez, God Almighty certainly has a reason to be frustrated at you. Hebrews ring a bell? Verse thirteen two?"

Puzzled, Joan began her questioning just as the diner door swung open. "Hebrews thirteen two? What are you talking about? I don't–"

"Hebrews thirteen two," A voice interrupted Joan, causing her and Joe to gaze towards the arrived forms standing behind them. Monica, holding a take out bag, smiled at the young woman. Andrew stood behind her, beverage holder in hand. It was Andrew that had started speaking, "Is, I recall, one of Monica's favorite scriptures."

"'Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; For thereby some have entertained angels unaware.'" Monica recited. Andrew gave Monica's shoulder a gentle squeeze as she continued, "Sometimes I encourage people to take that to heart." With a secretive twinkle in her eye that Joan had undoubtedly caught, "Because you never know when you could be in the midst of God and His angels."

Joe interceded before Andrew and Monica began their inquiry. He draped an arm "I was just reassuring Joan that we could trust you two. See, this is her first time venturing into the great unknown. Before Joan came into my life," With a wink he added, "And my heart..."

Joan did her best to keep back her gag and eye rolling reflexes.

"For a year or so, I was just your average _young_ drifter. Hitchhiking around America, seeing the country. You come to learn something about humans along the way. Notice signs on who you should and shouldn't trust." He beamed at Andrew and Monica, "I trust them."

"You can trust us, Joan. Andrew and I will make sure you get where you need to be." The sincerity in Monica's words pained Joan. Particularly since she knew deep inside that she _can_, with or without hearing the older woman's assurance. There was something about these two strangers that gave Joan not just comfort and reassurance, but they radiated this warmth and kindness that couldn't be ignored nor denied. It ached Joan in knowing that she could be dragging Andrew and Monica into something dangerous. More so with this... "demon in sheep's clothing," Joan silently thought, literally by her side.

"Monica's right. You never know when you could be within the company of _God_ and angels." He placed a particular emphasis on the G word, just as he slid his arm on Joan's shoulder.

"So," Andrew smiled with a nod towards the car, "Are we ready to roll?"

Joan was well aware of the expectant looks on their faces, more so aware of Joe's eyes piercing its gaze on her. A part of her mind logically reminded that she could back out now. That God was right, she had free will. Use it, say no, be damned the consequences and hope for the best. Hope that Joe doesn't live up to his threat, that he too – like any other bully – will chicken out. Last chance for her to say something to Andrew and Monica. Warn them about Joe and, like reacting to a ticking bomb waiting to explode, make a mad dash escape from him. Joan could do all that and more...

"_Oh, God..." _Joan found herself suddenly praying, despite thinking what good it could do? _"What do I do?"_

And like a lightening bolt... came the images, as clear an answer as she could have imagined.

Flash: Her conversation with God.

"_This is way bigger than me, isn't it? Something's happening that's like... end of the world, Armageddon, Revelations, holy battle **big**, isn't it?"_

Flash: Her conversation with Joe by the jukebox.

"_That's nice, Joan. I believe that everyone should have a dream. And maybe it might come true... but for now, let's work on making **my dream** come true, alright? And you can help me. In fact, I **insist** that you help me. Because you present such an... **innocence**, a **beacon** of the human spirit so to speak... it will be a lot easier for you to gain their," Referring to Andrew and Monica, "Trust. So I guess I shouldn't point out that you will not tell them about this conversation. About **me.** Got it?"_

"_Why them? What did **they** ever do to you?"_

"_Hebrews thirteen two." _

Flash: Monica reciting the scripture.

"'_Be not forgetful to entertain strangers; For thereby some have entertained angels unaware.' Sometimes I encourage people to take that to heart. Because you never know when you could be in the midst of God and His angels."_

God's words overlapping the memory of Andrew and Monica, in the glowing red Cadillac, picking up the unlikely hitchhikers. Their first encounter.

"_You'd be surprise how many people pass by angels unaware."_

Of Andrew and Monica's banter.

"_Since when did you become quite the comedian, dear chum? Thank God that his comedic timing isn't as horrible as his miming abilities. I love you, Andrew, but your silence makes my singing look good."_

"_Despite that beautiful Irish accent, angel girl over here is unable to carry a tune. It's a good thing that I love you more for your sparkling personality rather than your rendition of 'Danny Boy.'"_

God with her secretive smile. And Joe with his own smile, sharp and dangerous.

"_Because you're a beacon." _

"_... a **beacon** of the human spirit so to speak... it will be a lot easier for you to gain their trust."_

And as the last image appeared clearly in her mind's eye, of Andrew and Monica beaming warmly at her, Joe's words shimmered. Though she wasn't part of the conversation, Joan was within proximity to hear it before departing outside.

"_So, how long have you two been together?"_

Despite the initial confusion, one thing was clear to the young woman: It really wasn't about her... it was about Andrew and Monica. There was something about Andrew and Monica that Joe obviously wanted. Joan didn't know it yet, but she certainly wasn't going to let any harm come to them.

She feigned an enthusiastic warm smile at Joe, "Okay, let's head on out. I mean, you can't pull this trip without me, right?"

Joe winked, unaware of Joan's growing vow against him. "You're right. I can't."

"Well, okay then." Andrew beamed. He glanced at Monica and held out a crook of his arm, "Shall we?"

Monica reached over, briefly squeezed Joan's arm reassuringly, and promised, "We're going to look out for you, Joan." She turned to Andrew with a smile, took his arm, and lead their way to their awaiting vehicle.

With their backs facing them, Joan shook off Joe's arm and took a step away from him. He shrugged, placed his hands in the jacket, and started after their companions...

But not before Joan announced to him, "I know that they're angels."


End file.
